Page 30 of Craving Her Vampire

How can I not? You’ve seen him.

I’m afraid to respond to that.

Good call. My emotions are going wild.

I drop to my elbows.

I’m nervous.

He’s your mate. He will never judge you.

Thanks, Lace. I needed to hear that.”

Go talk to your mate. I’m going to make popcorn that your mate supplied and veg out in front of the massive entertainment system he bought. Give me the dirty details when you come up for air.

I pop up.

I’ll check in later.

I drop my phone and step back.

I slip on loose sweats. If I’m brave enough, I can pull them up my legs to show him. My hand hovers over the tank I brought in, but my gaze strays to the shirt he left on the counter. It’s blue and worn. I snatch it up and shove it over my head. I pull it up to my nose and breathe in his comforting scent. Shaking my head when I lose track of how long I stand smelling the fabric, I drop it and move to the door.

I leave the bathroom and freeze. When I walked through Micah’s room to get to the bathroom, his bedroom was empty. Now, the bed is in the center of the room, a chair is under the window, and a large dresser takes up the space. The surprising sight is my mate leaning over, making the bed.

“Feel better?” he asks, putting the pillows against the headboard.

“Yes,” I say faintly, my hands tangling in his shirt.

“You like my shirt?” His lips tip up, and he straightens.

“I hope it’s alright?”

“You can wear anything of mine you want.” He smooths his hand over the comforter while he walks closer. I track his hand, incredibly jealous of the blanket.

“It smells like you,” I say honestly.

“I wore it yesterday,” he says.

“They already put everything together?”

“No, I did. I don’t like others touching my things.”

“You did? That was fast.”

“I am fast,” he smiles. “Not where it counts, though,” he says dryly.

I laugh. “Good to know.”

“I have neglected to feed you. I apologize.” He steps close. “I’m not used to eating food regularly. Are you hungry?” I shiver when he runs his knuckles over my cheek.

“I’m starving.” I swallow hard. “But I need to tell you some things first.”

He tilts his head, his hand pausing. “You ready to?”

“I don’t think I will ever be ready,” I say. He drops his hand and starts to move back. I tuck my fingers in the front pocket of his jeans, pulling. “I want this to work. I want you for a mate.” His body stops all motion. “I feel guilty as fuck because I’ve hardly thought about my brother since I met you. I wanted to forget for a while, to have something for myself. I like you. I like how you make me feel. I like how feeding you makes me feel. I want to tell you about my life.” He stares at me, and I force myself to hold his gaze.

“Good,” he whispers. He pulls my hand from his pocket but tucks it in his and pulls me to the chair. He sits, and I find myself perched sideways on his lap again. I watch his hand cup my thigh. “Tell me,” he says, his other hand cupping my hip.

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